


The Mess We Are

by kt_anansi



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Alone, F/M, Gen, Guilt, I will definitely catch up, Mental health month, More TWings to come, Puzzles, Sleep, TW in chapters, Whump Fic, kiss, sorry I am behind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-02-16 16:17:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 11,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18694972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kt_anansi/pseuds/kt_anansi
Summary: Mental Health Whump Challenge by Newisalwaysbetter!





	1. She'd Rather Be Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [newisalwaysbetter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/newisalwaysbetter/gifts), [Nyxierose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy's thoughts while she is in solitary confinement at Rittenhouse headquarters.
> 
> TW: Description of blood, mild self-harm, incontinence, indirect torture and direct deprivation.

_She should be used to this: being alone._  

Lucy considers this as she stares into the darkness, scratching what's left of her nails against the concrete floor; the sound helps her stay somewhat sane. 

 _There’s no such thing as fear; there is no such thing as fear;_ she stopped whispering that three days ago.  

The closet she has been tossed into at Rittenhouse headquarters is just big enough for her to bend her knees, As her toes remain planted on the wall across from her, Lucy wonders if or when she will get out of this situation. Will Wyatt and Rufus come after her? What about Agent Christopher? She scoffs at the fleeting idea of Flynn coming to rescue her-  _maybe if he didn’t hate her for getting him arrested... he’s probably still in jail anyway._  

The chasm that separates her from her old life is vast. It’s like a festering wound that won’t heal. Every time it starts to, its reopened by another unfortunate revelation.  

Her mother is Rittenhouse.  

Her sister is gone- and her mother wants it that way.  

Her sperm-donor father is a sociopathic cult leader. 

The love she had felt from Henry Wallace- the man she thought was her father- had never existed. 

The sister that she held when their mother was given six months to live had never been in her arms. Not in this reality. The mom that kissed her scrapes and bruises when she was a kid, likely never did that, or at least Lucy had a hard time believing that this woman would. What this woman was happy to do, however, was throw her into a dark and tiny closet for four days.  

For the first two days, Lucy would scream and yell and try to get out when someone came by to ask her if she would join Rittenhouse. The third day, she said no each time. Now, she wasn’t even responding. She would rather be alone in a dark and small space (which, for the record, she hated) then willingly join them.  

It’s not like she hasn’t been alone for months already... since Amy disappeared, Lucy was more isolated than ever. She wishes she could say that Amy’s erasure from existence was when she started to feel alone. However, that would be a lie. The historian had felt a certain sense of alienation since her childhood.  

Was it her mother’s poking and prodding? No.  

Was it the feeling that she would never be good enough, worth anything? Not exactly. 

Now, it was more apparent than ever: it was because she was alone. All she had was herself. The only person she could trust, rely on, and expect anything from was herself. 

The door opens for the first time that day. Emma Whitmore stands there with a tray of food, as Lucy winces at the light in her eyes.  

“Looks like you already pissed,” she says looking Lucy up and down, “and what happened to your nails?”  

Lucy looks at her hands, several of her nails are ripped partially off, and there is dried and fresh blood mingling in her nail beds. She also looks down at her sweat pants to find that yes, she did piss herself. As if on cue, her senses kick in and she can smell herself. Dried sweat, odors from her body reacting to fear and prolonged isolation, her breath tastes rancid in her mouth.  

“Join Rittenhouse, and you can shower. Brush your teeth. Get cleaned up.”  

Staring up at Emma, Lucy imagines slitting her throat- _one day,_ she tells herself (if she doesn’t die of starvation first).  

Having not eaten in days, she swallows as Emma moves the plate under her nose. The food looks good, but she can’t- She _won’t_ give in.Mustering all her strength, she leans forward and hooks her finger under the door.  

With a lingering look at Emma, she pulls the door closed.  

She’d rather be alone and in the dark than be Rittenhouse.  


	2. How Do We Fit?: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Puzzles
> 
> TW: Kidnap
> 
> Mild angst.

It doesn’t make sense.  

How the hell is  _this_  the Lucy Preston that gives him the journal?  

Flynn has so many questions, and he knows that none of them will get answered tonight. Looking up from his crossword puzzle, he notices the bed that Lucy had been sleeping in is now empty.  

Of course, he shouldn’t be surprised. He did kind-of-sort-of kidnap her, so he really shouldn’t be surprised.  

“Five down,  _Waiting_ _for_ _Godot.”_  

“What?” Flynn nearly jumps in response to Lucy’s breath on his ear. 

“ _Didi and Gogo are featured in this play by Samuel Beckett._ That’s the answer, _Waiting for Godot._ ”  

He hums for a moment, and then concedes, finding that it  _does_ fit.  

“Thanks, I guess.” 

“Why am I here, Flynn?”  

“You know why.”  

“Actually, I don’t, all I know is that I tried. I tried, Flynn,” Lucy’s voice cracks, “My whole life has been turned upside down since you stole that goddamn time machine. I don’t understand why... why you would...”  

She’s trying not to cry, he can tell. Slowly, Flynn pulls out the Journal and waves it at her. 

“This, Lucy. This is how we fit together- I was ready to end it all until  _you_ turned  _my_ life upside down.”  

They stare at one another a moment before Lucy walks back over to the bed.  

“I don’t know how this...” as he struggles for a word to use, he sees the crossword on the table, “I don’t know how this _puzzle_ works, Lucy. But I have done everything that you asked me to do... that you   will ask me to do- and you have to take responsibility for your part in that.” 

Lucy nods wordlessly, then she turns over the blankets and lays down. As Flynn takes up his puzzle again, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he got it all wrong. Perhaps Lucy isn’t his savior. 

As of right now, it seems more fitting that she would be his demise.   


	3. How Do We Fit?: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Guilt
> 
> TW: Intense guilt and lack of taking responsibility

_He's right- she did this to_ _him._  

Lucy made Garcia Flynn who he is.  

She gave him the bullets for the gun, the plutonium core for the nuke.  It’s all her fault- or at least it will be all her fault. Countless lives are on her shoulders. Blood that she didn’t shed herself, is on her hands. And worst of all, she convinced him to do all those things for her, a stranger.  

Breathing heavily, Lucy tosses and turns until she has to sit up. Looking at Flynn, she studies his face. He is leaning back in the chair by the small table. His Sunday New York Times from 2016 is laying on the table (for the record she almost yelled at him for bringing that with, then she noticed his iWatch and figured her rebuke would fall on deaf ears). 

Flynn looks almost peaceful as he sleeps, and Lucy can't help but wonder why, why would she do this to him? Turn him into this monster, this man who barely sleeps, who sees the faces of victims when closes his eyes.  

He’s right, this is her fault. Everything he has done- she is responsible for it.  

Laying back down, she swallows her guilt and tells herself she has to forget it.

She can not acknowledge it, she can not let it become her truth.

She can’t let it cloud her decisions.

_The past (and ironically her future) have to stay there- in the past._


	4. Moje Svjetlo (My Light)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mental Health Whump Prompt:  
> Sleep
> 
> TW Sleep deprivation, description of body post-torture, emotional and physical vulnerability. Needles.

Lucy knew there was something wrong when she found Flynn shackled and chained to the wall at Rittenhouse headquarters.  

He looked exhausted while his head hung over his bare chest. It made Lucy’s heart ache, to see him there. Face battered and bruised, flesh torn asunder, and his body bleeding.  

 _“Oh, god,”_  she whispered. As if on cue, Flynn started to move. 

 _“Lu-Lucy?”_ his words came out short and raspy and were chased with a hacking cough, “Lucy... I didn’t. I didn’t tell them anything about us...  _I promise._ ”  

“Oh, Flynn...” her voice caught in her throat, as she approached him. Running her hand through his hair, he nuzzled her like a touch-starved kitten. This man, he had been tortured, and he was worried about her? “What did they do to you?”  

“Sleep...” he mumbled, before giving himself over to a coughing fit again.  

“Sleep deprivation,” Wyatt interjected, “when he started to fall asleep, they likely stabbed him with one of these.”  

Lucy felt her eyes bug as she stared at the giant needle in Wyatt’s hand. There were several more on the silver tray next to him. 

“Adrenaline?” Agent Christopher asked as she entered the room, “This... This is not good. Judging by this file- and, he’s been awake for nine days.”  

“Will he be okay?” Lucy asked, her lip quivering, and tears burning her eyes. 

“I don’t know. We need to give Flynn a sedative and carry him out. He could hallucinate and grab a gun. He could hurt himself,” Agent Christopher looked at Lucy as she spoke, leaving no room for compromise. Lucy merely nodded. 

“Okay,” she said, sucking in a breath and wiping her tears, “Just uh, just let me say something to him, please?”  

The others nodded and turned away.  

Stepping forward, Lucy took Flynn’s battered face in her hands, “G- Garcia? Can you hear me?”  

Lifting his face, and opening his eyes as much as he could, Lucy felt him nod against her hands.  

“Okay... Please, get better, okay? I need you- I want you- in my life, with me. So, please...”  

She knew she wasn’t making much sense, so she stopped talking. Carefully, she planted a small kiss on his lips. As he relaxed into her, she again ran her hands through his hair, “Okay, you’re going to sleep now... I’ll be here when you wake. Just please-” 

Lowering her voice even further, Lucy whispered the last part in his ear, “know that you're important to me.”  

His nod was almost imperceptible. But it was there. 

“Okay, it’s time.”  

“Let me...” Lucy said. At that, Agent Christopher handed her the needle and pointed at the injection site. Trying not to cry, she lined the needle up with his vein.

 _“Lucy,_ _moja_ _svjetlo, moja d_ _raga_ _,”_ he whispered, as his body began to loosen and slump in the chains. While Lucy brushed his hair back with her fingers, she whispered words that she hoped soothed him.  

 _“Shhh... sleep, Dear. You’ll feel better soon...”_  


	5. A Touch of Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn has a near-death experience... and makes a choice.

_ They say that the veil between worlds is thinner when you have a near-death experience. _

_ They say it's thin enough to send a messenger through. Or a reaper.  _

_ Garcia Flynn can testify that this is the truth, especially considering he’s just died himself.  _

_ Or rather, he is on the brink of dying, he isn’t entirely sure.  _

_ Shortly after Lucy came to get him, his heart gave out. All of the adrenaline had exhausted it, and they were not able to revive him... instead, they put him on life support. _

_ So, here he is. In a brightly lit hospital room, with a tube down his throat. There are guards outside the doors, and his body is cuffed to the bed rail (they must really think he is impressive if they think he’s  _ _ gonna _ _  just rise from the almost-dead and give them hell).  _

_ Jiya and Rufus were here earlier.  _

_ So was Agent Christopher... and Mason, too.  _

_ Even Wyatt came by. _

_ There is only one left, and he hasn’t seen her since he slipped out of his earthly vessel in the ambulance.  _

_ So, he’s waiting here... Watching his chest rise and fall. He’s not there though. However, no one else seems to know. They all talk  _ _ to _ _  his body and say nice things... things they would never say if he were safe and alive in the bunker.  _

_ He tried to leave the room, but he isn’t strong enough. He can’t move anything, he can’t make the lights flicker, god, he can’t even imagine himself into a decent pair of jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt. It’s frustrating.  _

_ He really wants to see her one more time.  _

_ Just one more time, Lucy... please.  _

_ “She’ll be here, Daddy.”  _

_ He knows that voice, and at first, he can’t believe it. But he is between the worlds, so  _ _ of _ _  course. With his metaphorical-heart twisting, he turns toward the voice and prays that she looks different... that she isn’t covered in the blood  _ _ of _ _  herself and her mother... and, and...  _

_ She’s beautiful. She is the same age as when she died, but she looks different... more grown-up somehow. _

_ “Iris...” he says, moving to kneel in front of her, he is about to touch her cheek when she stops him.  _

_ “Daddy, you can’t- please, don’t touch me. If you do, then you won't have a choice,” she smiles at him, her eyes watering. Looking at her, he sees that her skin is flush- not pale like his own. She appears to be breathing, too. And although she looks the same age as when she died, she speaks as if she has a lifetime more of experience than she should.  _

_ “Baby I- I can’t believe you’re here... am I hallucinating?”  _

_ “No, you aren’t. My supervisor had to pull some strings to get me this assignment, but... Mr. Capone seems to think he owes you one.”  _

_ “Capone? Al Capone?”  _

_ “Yes, the same one, though he looks different to the human eye, like me. Unless you're dead. Or almost dead, like you are.”  _

_ Smiling, Iris walks over to her father’s catatonic body. Slowly, she holds his hand...  _

_ And he... he can feel it. Her hand is warm in his, and he aches to embrace her, to give her a kiss on the cheek. He may not be allowed to hold her right now, but he can speak. _

_ “Iris, I- I am so sorry. What happened, it was my fault.”  _

_ “No, it wasn’t Daddy,” she said, looking up at the door. It's then that Flynn realizes that Lucy is at the door, staring at him on the bed. _

_ “Can she see you?”  _

_ “No. When I talk to the soon departed, the living can’t see me- unless I chose to show myself.”  _

_ “Then... What are you?” At that,  _ _ Iris’ _ _  lips quirk upward.  _

_ “I’m a reaper, Daddy.”  _

_ “A... What?”  _

_ “A reaper... I take souls  _ _ to _ _  their final destination,” she says with no small amount of satisfaction, “Or if it’s not their time... then I- I make sure they choose what they want. To stay or to go.”  _

_ “I’ll to give you two a minute... Lucy wants to talk to you. Don’t touch your body, Daddy. If you do, you won’t have a choice. You will have to stay.”  _

_ Flynn watches as Iris walks out of the room... He’s beside himself, literally and figuratively. Looking at Lucy, he feels that familiar warmth and aching in his chest. Carefully, he walks over to her, and kneels in front of her, “God, you’re beautiful, Lucy.” He says figuring that, hell, she can’t hear him, “I don’t know what to do, I don’t think my body can come back from this.”  _

_ “I have no right to tell you to fight, Flynn... But I think... you should know that I don’t want you to go,” she heaves in a way that makes Flynn’s hands itch to reach out and settle her nerves, “it’s not that I need you- I mean, I do, but- it's that I want you. I want you in my life... here with me, and I should have told you before you were taken... Before you couldn’t hear me. I’ll never know if you heard me.”  _

_ Oh, and she’s crying now. And Flynn can’t help it, he’s trying to tell her that he heard her, that he knows... that he wants to be there... as he brings his hands up to her cheek, he hears Iris yell.  _

_ “Daddy, no! Don't touch her- if you do, you’ll be stuck.”    _

_ Flynn moves his hands away from Lucy. When looks at her, he finds her looking directly at the monitors, her eyes wide, while the monitors start to beep and go crazy, Flynn tries to think. “Lucy, I- I am not- I won’t...” _

_ With a familiar ache in his heart, he looks to his daughter and then to Lucy. _

_ “Iris, if I choose to stay, will I heal?”  _

_ “I don’t know.”  _

_ “If I touch her, will I be a ghost, then?” _

_ Iris merely nods, “I wouldn’t recommend it, though.”  _

_ “If I touch my body, I’ll go back in?”  _

_ “If you can, yes.”  _

_ Closing his eyes, Flynn tries to clear his mind, as the code team rushes into the room. Finally, with one last look, and an I love you he makes his decision...  _

_ And everything goes dark.  _

When he wakes up, Lucy is holding his hand and praying. Upon seeing him awake, she smiles wide and kisses his forehead, “You... You came back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have considered writing a fic with Iris as a reaper for awhile... I hope you like it! The reaper lore is like the reapers of "Dead Like Me".


	6. Of Dreams and Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MHWC Day 6: Liquid.

 

> _The car crashes into the lake... she struggles to get free._  
> 
> _As she panics, liquid fills her lungs._  
> 
> _As she starts to slip away, she becomes painfully aware that she will die here,_  
> 
> _Forgotten, alone._  
> 
> _Not a soul will know..._  
> 
> _The tunnel vision gets more and more narrow until she can’t keep her eyes open,_  
> 
> _And her vision fades to black._  

 

* * *

 

Drenched in her sweat, Lucy woke with a start. The dream comes like clockwork. Every year on the anniversary of the day that she should have died. She tried to shake it off like she had done so many other times, but tonight. Lucy can’t help but feel that she doesn’t have to go through this alone- there is someone here, in the bunker, who would hold her and make her feel safe.  

And he wouldn’t even mention it in the morning.  

Toying with the idea, she decides to shower. Standing under the warm spray, she washes away the dread, the fear, the complete and utter loneliness that overcame her on that day.  

Most people could understand her acquiring a fear of water, small spaces, and drowning, after almost dying when her car collided with the lake. The one phobia she did have from that list, it couldn’t compare to what she truly fears: being alone- dying alone.

She often felt that she had to endure things on her own in life, and that included the trauma of that horrific incident. She had told Wyatt about it once, but he wasn’t in a place to help her.  

When she told Flynn about her yearly panic attack (she did so as a forewarning, in case she fell asleep on his bed the night of), he looked at her with compassion and asked what he could do to help her feel less alone. They made a plan to fight the liquid demon that reared its ugly head and triggered her every year. After she finished showering and putting on clean clothing, she made her way to his room.  

“Flynn?” her voice felt small as it fell from her lips.  

“Lucy?” he groaned as he got up and came to the door, “are you-? Is _it_ tonight?”  

All she had to do was nod, and he took her shaky hand in his. Holding her against his chest, she let out a long breath as she let herself fall into his warmth. With his arm around her shoulders, he led her to his bed. Turning it down, he smiled at her, “Okay, be my guest, Lucy. It’s yours as long as you need it.”  

Relishing the plush blankets that Flynn had _somehow_ come across, Lucy, settled into the bed. It was warm, soft and  _dry_. It was everything her dream hadn’t been.  

As Flynn made his way to the chair, Lucy’s voice caught in her throat. She made just enough noise for him to hear her and turn, “Everything okay?”  

“Uh, yeah. I- can you, possibly…” Lucy truly wasn’t good at asking for things, especially when she hadn’t had anyone to ask for quite a while, “Can you hold me? ”  

“Always,” he murmured, taking his place next to her, and opening his arms to her.  

As he held her close, Lucy couldn’t help but wonder at this man that had somehow become her best friend, her anchor in a chaotic and terrifying life. Feeling full of gratitude and affection for him, Lucy turned her head up and found him looking at her.  

“Thank you,” she whispered, as she rose slightly and kissed the edge of his lips. It wasn’t poor aim on her part that kept her from kissing him fully, it was just that this thing between them, it was deeper than romance, it was more profound than anything she had ever felt, and she didn’t want to ruin it. So, if he asked, she could chalk it up to a kiss on the cheek gone awry.  

As it turns out, she didn’t have to worry about it, because with a comforting softness in his gaze, Flynn held her chin lightly and pressed his lips against hers. 

It was simple, soft, soothing. 

Sighing into the kiss, Lucy felt the last of the tension in her body drain.    

“Sweet dreams, Lucy,” he said, tucking her under his chin while holding her close.  

Burrowing into him, she couldn’t help but let out a satisfied, but exhausted yawn, “hmmm, yes. Sweet dreams, indeed.”  

 

 

 


	7. Desires and Necessities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter alludes to sexual activities.
> 
> It's written a bit more like a poetic exploration of reaction to touch... 
> 
> It's short.

_ Tossing and turning,  _

_ with lips and fingers burning,  _

_ searing over one another’s skin.  _

_ He flushes,  _

_ his body filling with heat from head to toe. _

_ She lowers her lips to his chest, _

_ and with dark eyes looks up at him.  _

_ Her brown orbs are glazed over, and her lips are swollen. _

_ Without a word, she sets her lips to trail lower and lower.  _

_ He stops her- that's not what he wants right now...  _

_ that’s not what he needs.  _

_ He needs her close, her body against his- _

_ If she would have him.  _

_ He wants her lips open to his, _

_ He needs to feel her warm breath on his chin, on cheeks, on his neck.  _

_ He wants her hands to warm his face and arms, _

_ as she grips tighter, holding him closer... _

_ he wants her to never let him go.  _

 

_ He both wants and needs all of her, _

_ and somehow against all logic (in his opinion)-  _

_ She wants,  _ _ and maybe even needs,  _ _ him as well.   _


	8. Learning...

_Lucy stares at Flynn as he dresses..._

_She’s getting used to this,_

_the domesticity of being with him._

_When he is done putting his pants on,_

_he will go make the two of them coffee with eggs and toast._

_He will steal the paper before Connor can get to it,_

_then the two of them will read the comics and do the crossword together._

_It’s simple._

_It’s fun._

_She’s learning not to second guess it,_

_when he kisses her on the cheek, the lips, the neck._

_When he tells  her  that he loves her-_

_when he smiles that  huge  grin that makes her insides flip._

 

_She’s learning to appreciate it_

_when he rubs her shoulders while she’s working at the desk._

_She’s learning to trust him_

_when he says he’d stay no matter what-_

_that he doesn’t have stipulations or expectations._

_She’s learning to be brave,_

_And to believe that maybe,_

_with the right amount of luck,_

_they just might have a future after this._

_She’s learning to believe him,_

_When he tells her she’s not like them-_

_Her biological family._

_When he insists that she is her own person,_

_Bright, beautiful, and strong._

_She’s learning how to tell him,_

_How to communicate to him,_

_with more than silent looks,_

_that she loves him back,_

_That she needs him,_

_That she wants him, too._

 

_And she hopes he’s learning to accept that he’s worthy of her love._


	9. Of Bruises and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Nine: Colors
> 
> Lucy catalogs the phases of Flynn's bruises... after he heals, they talk. 
> 
> This is the third part of a series, I guess. the first one is Sleep (My Light), Touch (A Touch of Choice).

_Red, pink and purple,_   He’s coding in the ambulance. Lucy feels sick. She can’t breathe, she’s going to puke.

_Dark purple and blue,_ h e died, but came back to her, he sleeps too much- but the doctor insists it’s a good thing.

_Pale green,_ h e’s staring at her, and he says her name here and there, but then he stops talking. He  licks  his lip, swallows nervously and then says never mind. 

She doesn’t push. They have time now. 

He thanks her when she holds the cup of water up for him. He drinks slowly, while he’s eying her, then they both look away awkwardly with a small smile. They watch television in silence, neither of them paying attention to the screen. Slowly, Lucy inches her chair toward his bed. It’s so much more difficult to say what she wants to say when he’s awake.

The nurse comes in and hooks up a new IV. She gives him his medication- again Lucy helps him with his water. The doctor comes in to talk about his condition. When he asks “Mr. Jacobson” if he would like to speak with his wife in the room, Flynn says its fine while gently lifting her hand. 

He doesn’t correct him.  

_Yellow and brown,_ “Mr. Jacobson” gets discharged from the hospital. He insists he doesn’t need much help in the bunker, but Lucy doesn’t buy it.

Rufus pulls out the chair for him at dinner.

Jiya  makes breakfast for him.

Even Wyatt grabs him a beer and sits by him. He asks him how he’s feeling if he’s recovering okay. 

He says he’s okay. 

When his bruises are gone, Lucy checks on him and asks him if he’s okay. 

“I am _ fine, _ Lucy,”  he insists with a smile, after finding her outside his door with a water bottle, some tea, and snacks. 

“I know... I- can we talk? We haven’t talked much since you-” 

“Since I died? Or since I was abducted?” he says it so matter-of-factly that she wants to smack him- just a little. 

“Flynn... I really would like to talk, please?” 

“Of course. I don’t want you to worry,” Flynn says as he moves to let her in. 

After setting the items down, Lucy offers him some tea, if he wants it. 

“You take the tea; I'll take the  water?” 

Nodding, she hands it to him, then he sits down on the bed, “I want you to know that I- I'm glad you’re okay. And I’m here if you want to talk about what happened at Rittenhouse headquarters- or in the hospital. Any of it. I am here for you.” 

“I saw Iris.” 

“Iris?” she whispers. Out of all the things he could say, that was what she least expected.

“When I coded, in the hospital,” he looks at Lucy briefly, then back at the wall, “I know you were in the ambulance with me. I know I coded there, too. That was when I- I slipped out of my body, I guess. I know you came to see me after everyone else did. You said that you wanted me with you. You asked me not to go.” 

Lucy feels a chill run down her spine, “How do you know that? You were. You were out cold, Flynn. I gave you the  sedative  myself.” 

“I think it’s called a near-death experience,” Flynn says, turning to her, “or in my case, a non-permanent death experience.” 

Lucy can’t look away from him, “and Iris?” 

“That is more difficult to explain. I may have been hallucinating.” 

“Yet you heard what I said?”

Flynn shrugs, he can’t explain everything but- “it was... nice to hear what you said, Lucy. It was nice to see Iris- even if that was in my head what you said though. You being there. You brought me back.” 

He breathes in, and Lucy finds herself walking toward him, “you seem to have a knack for saying the right thing. For saving my life, Lucy. So, thank you. For everything.” 

Remembering him chained to that wall, face swollen and bruised, Lucy starts to tear up. He’s been through so much. So very much. And he came back because of her? Standing before him, she runs her hand through his hair slowly. She feels her heart melt when he chases her touch. 

“ _ Thank you _ ,” she whispers, as she pulls him close to her,  _ “ _ _ Thank you  _ _ for coming back to me.” _


	10. The Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Timeless Poem no one asked for... I hope you like!

_He sees it before she does._  

 _The anger._  

 _The loneliness._  

 _The pain._  

 _She says he doesn’t know her- but he does._  

 _He knows her better than she knows herself._  

 _She finds that out when she comes to him that night._  

 _He’s easy to talk to._  

 _They laugh- more than they have since their lives were turned upside down._  

 _They find solace in one another._  

_She sees it-_

_and is in awe._  

 _His smile._  

 _The lightness in his step,_  

 _The flip in her stomach when their eyes meet._  

 _He hums as he cooks,_  

 _She asks him what song_ _it is..._  

 _and he hums until she can, with giggles sneaking out of her, guess it._  

 _They pretend there's nothing happening,_  

 _But they both know,_  

 _Things are changing between them-_  

 _Things have changed between them._  

 _Then, his words get stuck in his throat,_  

 _He wants to tell her, but-_  

 _She’s receiving love confessions from another._  

 _It’s misread, misunderstood,_  

 _she thinks when it's all over._  

 _The fall out happens so fast,_  

 _Too fast._  

 _And he’s gone._  

 _It's all changed so very_ _much._  

 _It's all changed too much._  


	11. We'll Be Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day, what day is this for now? 
> 
> Prompt: Work

“It was a beautiful wedding.” 

Of all the people that Lucy thought she’d talk to, Garcia Flynn was certainly not the person that she expected to approach her tonight. In fact, she hadn’t expected him to be here at all.  

“They told me you’d left...” they both knew she wasn’t just talking about the wedding.  

“I did,” the sound of his approach stopped. He probably knew she’d be furious at him the next time she saw him. Hell, she should be. But the truth, Lucy wasn’t. She was relieved because seeing him meant that he was alive, “I couldn’t stand the idea of leaving you... again.”  

“I’m glad you’re here, that you're safe,” Closing her eyes, she willed her unshed tears to stay at bay, “I’ve missed you.”  

The last part came out as a choked whisper. Lucy had been surprised by Flynn joining her to walk down the aisle as part of the wedding party (although she was a bit grateful for Wyatt’s last-minute cancellation after their awkward post-Flynn-leaving relationship fell apart). When it happened, Lucy thought she was going to faint, cry or just start hitting him right there. But, as the ceremony continued, and Lucy found herself staring at Flynn the whole time, she knew something was different.  

He had really hurt her, just walking away, not saying anything. Leaving just a note that said he needed to work on things. Come to terms with himself and the fact that he wasn’t being punished for his crimes. 

“I-” she could hear him shifting behind her. He was close enough for her to just lean back, and have him hold her, so she did just that. It felt nice to have him there again. The man let out a rush of breath, and held her tighter, “Lucy, I’m so sorry.”  

Minutes passed before she spoke again. She didn’t want to explode and ruin Rufus and Jiya’s special day and, as upset at Flynn as she was, he had to know there was no way in hell he was ever leaving her again. Turning around, she slowly lifted her gaze to meet his. Smoothing her hands over his suit, she moved them until her arms were around his neck, and her fingers were playing with his hair in that familiar way.  

“I-  _we’ll_ be okay, Garcia,” she said as his hands rose instinctively and caught her around the waist, “we have a lot to work through, but we’ll be okay- as long as you stay.”  

Lucy watched as the beautiful, impulsive, brilliant (and yet somehow) idiotic man that she loved nodded and swallowed his nerves. It seemed that he had been punishing himself enough for his leaving. When he looked back at her, Lucy felt her heart melt just a bit. His eyes were always so soft when he happened upon her. Pulling him into a kiss, she knew that she couldn’t let him go anytime soon. 


	12. It's a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mental Health Whump Challenge: Day 12- Date. 
> 
> Okay, I know I'm getting a bit Fluffy here. But I am giving Garcy a little happiness... 
> 
> This is set after the last fic. Lucy and Flynn go on a date.

Flynn can’t believe she said yes.  

After all the tough talks they’d had since Rufus and Jiya’s wedding, it still seemed that there was plenty of chemistry, interest, and trust between the two of them to get them through this. Their history, their mutual respect for one another, their shared trauma (and hopefully shared healing), paled in comparison to the raw truth- Flynn and Lucy cared for one another- and they cared deeply. It was in a way that neither of them could quite explain. 

But Flynn couldn’t let it go. So they were here, now. On a date.   

He honestly can’t even believe he asked Lucy out... A date. An actual date- no sleeper agents to hunt, no guns being aimed at them. Just the two of them, Italian food, and well... seeing where the night takes them.  

So far, the conversation has been excellent, as was the food, and Lucy looks beautiful in her little black dress. Flynn is just thrilled that she is teaching again. He enjoys the way her eyes light up as she tells him about all the interesting “chain-of-events" changes that have happened in history as a result of their travels.  

“It’s just so great to talk to someone about this! Finally!” Lucy laughs as she takes another sip of her white wine, “It’s so good to have you back Garcia.”  

He can’t stop beaming at her. 

“Garcia?”  

“Yes, Lucy?”  

“Are you okay?” she asks, the smile leaving her face and Flynn is suddenly aware that he was being rude.  

“I’m sorry... It’s just that I love the way you-" he lets out a nervous cough, "you glow when you talk about something your passionate about. I’ve missed that.”  

And now she’s blushing- and he loves that, too.  

As they leave the restaurant, he helps Lucy slip on her coat. To his surprise, she slips her fingers through his as they walk. 

“So, where to?” she asks, smiling.  

“Well, I’m staying at the Hilton,” he says it before he's aware that it could sound like he’s propositioning her. With flushed cheeks, he adds “unless you wanted to go see a movie or take a walk.”  

“Um... How about we go back to my place? I have a bed that needs messing up.”  

Well, that. That completely throws him- and Flynn can feel his jaw hanging open, while Lucy leads the way. When they get to her car, he regains his faculties, and pulls her close to him and into a heated kiss. By the time they pull apart, Lucy’s hair is a mess around her shoulders, Flynn’s suit has a few buttons unfastened or missing, and Lucy’s legs are hooked around his waist, as she’s pressed against the car.  

“At this rate, we won’t make back to my bed,” Lucy gasps as Flynn sucks on her neck, leaving a lovely little red mark that is sure to bruise. 

“I think we have plenty of energy, Lucy,” Flynn remarks as he kisses his way up to her lips, “your bed won’t have to be jealous for long.”   

When she lets out that sultry and satisfied laugh, Flynn can’t help but hope he’ll hear that for many, many days (and years) to come. 


	13. Soft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Canon related Death, Death of a loved one, of a child. Death of a major character.
> 
> pre-canon suicide. Pre-canon relationship, and love.
> 
> Unexpressed emotions, love not realized. Grief.

_Soft is his voice when he, as a boy, checks on his mom._

_She’s crying again, and he doesn’t know why._

_“Mommy? Are you okay?”_

_“Not today, Garcia… But tomorrow I will be,” she whispers._

_Gentle is the officer’s voice when, years later,_

_he tells him that his mother is gone._

_They won’t tell him what happened._

_They say it was an accident._

_He knows better- she didn’t want to cry anymore._

_He doesn’t know what to do-_

_So, he goes to war._

_Enchanting is the light around Lorena the first time he sees her._

_Waking after the blast,_

_He finds her,_

_an angel- halo and all- tending to his wounds._

_Tentative is the way they kiss the first time._

_He’s scared, everyone he has loved has left._

_But he trusts she won’t._

_Pudgy, are the cheeks of their baby girl,_

_Iris,_

_She is gentle and kind._

_He can’t help but be so proud._

_He reads to her with a voice hushed and soft,_

_She falls asleep in his arms,_

_When the story is over,_

_He puts her to bed._

_Small,_

_is the voice that asks for three more minutes._

_Sharp-_

_is the sound of the gun,_

_equipped with a silencer,_

_that takes them away from him._

_Gentle is the woman’s gaze when she enters the bar._

_Lucy is the name she gives him._

_She cries as she speaks._

_She promises him he will be a hero- that he is a hero._

_The words she writes in the journal- they are at times tender, at times ramblings._

_When she writes about the two of them… he wonders._

_His heart softens as he gets to know her._

_She’s kind, beautiful, insanely smart._

_He can feel himself starting to fall._

_He decides that he can’t let himself fall into her,_

_He’s lost so much, done so much._

_He is too wounded to be anyone’s love._

_He has to make sure she stays good-_

_That she’ll be safe- even if he isn’t._

_Quietly,_

_she weeps when she reads his letter._

_When she writes the journal,_

_When she sees him for the last time._

_Soft, Is the sound of her child’s voice,_

_Coming to check on her as she cries,_

_“Mommy, are you okay?”_

_Tenderly,_

_she cups her daughter's face and_ _says the only thing she can._

_“Not today, Flynn… But tomorrow, I will be.”_


	14. In Middle of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 14: Smell 
> 
> Trigger Warning: 
> 
> Severe depressive episode. Thoughts of inordinate guilt, anguish, deep sadness. 
> 
> There is hurt/comfort at the end- but it doesn't resolve the episode.

_Falling into it is easy._

 

 _It's the way it’s always been-_  

_The depression, the anxiety, the guilt..._

_old friends that have come to play again._  

 

_Before this life, when_ _it overtook her-_

_Like the ocean at high tide-_

_She would hold Amy close._  

 _Being needed,_  

 _It helped her feel better._  

 

 _Falling into it is a lot like standing barefoot_ o _n the cusp of the ocean._  

 _The water touches her feet,_  

 _She can feel it- she_ _knows_ _it’s there._  

_She can even smell the salt in the air;_

_she can taste it on her tongue-_

_It surrounds her,_

_it's all too much._  

 

 _She doesn’t know how far out it is-_  

 _The Deep Dark,_  

_The spot that will swallow her whole if she lets it,_

_and drag her down into its depths._

_So, she stands like she always has,_  

_On the cusp of it,_

_Waiting for something to hold close._

 

 _Numb._  

 _She doesn’t cry._  

 _In anguish even,_  

_She doesn’t weep._

_She lays there_ _until the bedsprings creak._  

 

 _“Lucy?”_  

 _He doesn’t ask if she’s alright,_  

 _it’s clear she’s not._  

 _“I’m here if you need me.”_  

 _She nods,_  

_and he lays down,_

_he gently holds her hand._  

 

 _“Strawberry shampoo?”_  

 _Lucy whispers after the scent reaches her nose._  

_“Yeah. I um- it was all that was left."_

_They sit in silence until he sighs,_

_"I can leave if you want."_  

 

 _“No,” she says, scooting closer,_  

 _weighing her words carefully,_  

She looks at him; his face is soft, worried,

 _“Can you just- can you let me hold me hold you?_  

 

_He nods._

_The man arranges himself around her,_

_taking care not to pull at her sprawled out hair._

_He finds his place, and fits perfectly-_

_she relishes the feel of holding him,_

_as his head settles under her chin._

 

 _She tightens her arms around him,_  

 _She holds him close and breaths him in._  

 _And as the tears start to escape,_  

 _They hold onto each other-_  

_Until the tide_ _recedes_ _._


	15. In The Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 15: Release
> 
> I am re-posting this one shot... because Flynn being comforted by Lucy as he cries will never get old.

Walking out of the bathroom Lucy finds a shadow on the couch. On  _her_  couch… As the glow of the TV dances across his features, Lucy breathes a sigh of relief. It’s just Flynn.

“Hey.” She looks at him as he looks up at her. His body stretched over the couch, taking up all the space.

“Hey.” He isn't smiling, even though he is genuinely soft toward Lucy. But his face looks tired, sad even. “Am I in the way?”

“No, never.” She whispers. She’s leaning over the back of the couch now, half tempted to touch his face and ask him what’s wrong. But she holds back. Whatever he is upset over he will tell her if he wants to. That’s the beauty of their relationship, they don’t pry, but they are free to open up.

Instead of asking, she takes the liberty of grabbing two beers and propping his feet on her lap as she hands him one. She can’t help but stare at him as he watches TV.

Catching her, he sighs as he smooths his hand over his face and sits up. He is slouching and his legs are open, squeezed between the couch and the coffee table. Lucy can’t help but wonder what’s more uncomfortable, the weight on his shoulders or his posture. He takes a long drink of his beer and looks up at Lucy as if expecting something from her.

“Lucy-.”

“You don’t have to talk about it. You can if you want. But you don’t have to.” Surprising herself, she smooths her fingers through his hair, she almost gasps as he chases her touch.

It’s catlike really, the way he slides down and places his head on her lap. His beer is gone. Lucy’s is almost gone too. The TV turns off, and she sees the shadow of his hand putting the remote on the table. Her beer bottle follows.

There’s something about darkness that makes it easier to cross boundaries, to break barriers. Yes, that had happened in China Town… but right now, the weight of this moment feels similar. Lucy trails her finger down his arm until she reaches his hand and she takes it in hers.

She feels him lift her hand to his lips, then he brushes it with a soft kiss.

“You’re the only good left in the world, Lucy.”

“Garcia, I don’t think that’s true.”

“Okay, then. You’re the only good thing left in my world.”

“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I am not going anywhere then, isn’t it?”

Slowly, Lucy slides down next to him. He needs her right now. The selfish part of her can’t lie, it’s nice to be held. And whatever this thing is between them, they would figure it out later. For now, she just clings to him, her arms around his waist, her head burrowed into his chest.

In the darkness, he sighs.

“She would have been nine today.”

Lucy feels the heat of tears in her eyes as she clings tighter.

“She would have been nine today, and I can’t cry for her.” His voice is tight, and Lucy can sense his guilt.

There is a long silence as Lucy tries to think of something comforting to say.

“Maybe that’s what Iris would want. For you to remember her with a smile and laughter, instead of tears.”

“Maybe.” He says, considering her words.

“Tell me a story… about a time when you and your family were happy. Tell me a story about Iris.”

And he tells her a story. And another, then another. Until they are both laughing, and suddenly he’s crying into Lucy’s hair. She doesn’t mind. She just holds him until he drifts off to sleep, and shortly thereafter, she follows.


	16. Book Signing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 16: Giving 
> 
> This is a post-series fic. In it, Lucy has erased herself from history. I chose this for "giving" because, Lucy is eager to give a thank you, and a blessing- even though he doesn't remember her.

“Daddy!” Iris Flynn squealed happily, as Garcia grabbed her unicorn Frappicino off of the counter. “Dad, can I have a sleeve, you know it gets cold!”  

“Of course, Iris. Here you go honey.” smiling at his daughter he laughed when she took a sip too fast and her face crinkled in response to the brain freeze.  

“Garcia, you got her one of those? I have told you, they are empty calories... They are not good for a growing girl.”  

“Oh, c’mon Lorena, live a little.” He said smirking as he handed her the Venti Caramel Macchiato he had gotten for her. Her lips curled guiltily as she snagged it out of his hand and took a sip, her eyes rolling in the back of her head.  "It's half caff." 

“Okay, maybe this was a good idea.” She laughed. Taking her husband’s hand as he took a sip of his Americano.  

“It’s never a bad idea to make my girls happy.” Flynn looked down at his wife of- how long had it been? Fourteen years now? That seemed rather crazy, but Garcia Flynn was used to crazy... Being an NSA field agent and everything. Usually, he found himself on an assignment this time of the year. He had gotten lucky this year, for once he didn’t pull the short straw and got an entire month off with the family. Now they were at Target grabbing a coffee and doing the Christmas shopping.  

“Okay, Iris, can you go check out the dollar section? Daddy and I need to talk strategy, okay?” Iris rolled her eyes but seeing some girly girl decorations for her door she gladly ran over to inspect.  

“I was thinking this year, you give me the list. You can take Iris across the street to a movie and I will do the Christmas shopping. Plus, there is something very special I want to get you. What do you say? The Flynn Ladies enjoy girl time, while dad toils away?” Lorena let out a laugh as she slid an arm around her husband’s waist. Her baby bump blocked her from a full hug, but damn, it was precious. Looking down at her, he wondered how he had gotten so lucky.  

Both Garcia and Lorena had been nervous when they found themselves unexpectedly pregnant a second time. After all, Lorena was forty-three. And Garcia himself was forty-five. According to the doctors, the babies were perfectly healthy.  

Twins. God. Apparently, they were more common as a woman aged... But, hell, Garcia found himself excited. And Iris couldn’t wait to be a big sister. With two more girls on the way, Garcia was beginning to feel outnumbered. He had a few ideas for gifts. One involved a male chocolate lab- he needed some camaraderie, after all.  

The other gift was a book series for both Lorena and Iris to read. The Author was at Barnes and Nobles down the street. Garcia had the series on order and wanted to get the author to sign it. Alice Paul had been a breakout author this year, weaving tales of history, family, sacrifice, and a decent amount of Romance. Garcia wasn’t going to lie, he had a little bit of a “fanboy” crush on Ms. Paul. But, so did everyone else. The woman seemed to come out of nowhere. She was a complete mystery. However, her stories were vibrant, and both Garcia and Lorena found themselves being swept away by her tales of Dr. Lucy Preston- the brilliant feminist historian, Master Sergeant Wiles Rogan- the solder who couldn’t seem to get his job done, and Ronald Jaden- the quirky but lovable nerd that had Garcia in stitches, and had him dissolved into a heap of tears when he died in the last installment of the series.  

Then there was Grayson Finn. Garcia had mixed feelings about the Anti-hero. The character reminded him so much of himself. Lorena was the one to point it out. When the sketch came out for “The Witching Hour” a short story teaser for the last book- well, Garcia had to do a double take. His boss actually asked him if he had modeled for the sketch- he had half a mind to write in and request royalties. But he refrained.  

He was glad that Finn came into his own in the last book, he seemed to turn a corner. He and Lucy bonded and it looked like they were falling in love. Usually, Garcia didn’t enjoy romance but, seeing snark and wit displayed in such a way was entertaining for both him and Lorena. He thought about taking Lorena with him to the book signing... however, with the babies it was hard for her to stand for too long.  

After giving Lorena a kiss on the lips, and Iris one on the cheek, they went off to the movie. Garcia braced himself against the slight chill and walked to the Barnes and Nobles. His books were there waiting at the register, all he had to do was pay for them. Garcia spied the author at her table as he walked in, he almost did a double take as the woman looked him right in the eye and smiled. The way she looked at him, it felt she knew him. Her brown hair was up in a ponytail and she wore a smart green tweed coat and pantsuit. She certainly was the embodiment of “Professor Preston”. Garcia made his way to the counter to pay for his books.  

“Ah, Mr. Flynn, it looks like your books have been paid for in full.” The cashier said, much to Garcia’s astonishment.  

“Oh, I guess I paid online. Must have forgotten. Thank you.” The man nodded, and Garcia made his way to the line to meet the author. When he approached the lady’s eyes were wide and she smiled as if she was seeing someone for the first time a very long time.  

“Ms. Paul?” Garcia asks it seemed strange to him that her staring didn’t bother him at all.  

“Uh, yeah. Sorry.” She adjusted herself in her seat. “Did you want me to sign a book for you?”  

“Yes, please.” He said, suddenly feeling shy. He pulled out the first book of the series. “If you could, to my wife- Lorena. Thank you for fourteen years, and soon-to-be three beautiful girls.”  

“Three?” Alice seemed tearful, her voice somewhat in disbelief. Odd. 

“Yeah, my wife, she is pregnant with twins. Due Christmas day...” Garcia laughed, “I guess it will be our little Christmas miracle.”  

Alice smiled warmly, “Miracles indeed, Garcia.”  

Taken aback, he cocked his head in curiosity. “I didn’t tell you my name...”  

“Up front. I asked who you were when I saw all the books you ordered.”  

“Ah!” he laughed nervously. “I guess you could say my wife and I are big fans. We have even talked about naming our daughters Lucy and Amy... But we are hoping Amy gets brought back. Dr. Preston needs her sister.”  

“You are absolutely right,” Alice said, this time with actual tears in her eyes. “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to name one of them Maria? After you-you know, Greyson's mother? She was remarkable in the Space-race story.”  

“True.” Garcia acknowledged. “You know, it is so odd. My mom’s name is actually Maria. My wife says that Greyson is so much like me. At first, I didn’t see it... But the last book... I just, I really like what you did with the character. Bringing back his humanity. It was remarkable.”  

“That means a lot to me. He is probably my favorite character, actually.” Alice smiled, “Who is your favorite?”  

“Ah, Lucy, hands down! She is...” He took a moment to think about how to say what he was thinking. “She is very impressive.” At that, Alice sat back and actually beamed at Garcia. It was amazing how her gaze made him feel warm, comforted and on the spot, all at once.  

Looking down, she scribbled something in the book. Then taking out a business card, she put it in the book.  

“I would love to meet your wife.” Alice said, “If she puts up with someone like Greyson, she must be amazing. Please, email my publisher for tickets to my next public reading?”  

“Uh, wow. Yeah. Thank you!”  

“My pleasure.” Alice smiled, her hand jutting out for a handshake. Garcia met her halfway.  

“Have a great day, Ms. Paul.” 

“You too, Mr. Flynn.” She smiled as she handed him the book.  

 

Once he made it back to the car, he read the inscription in the book: 

 

 _Dearest Garcia, Lorena,_ _Iris, Lucy, and Amy._   

 _To tiny miracles and blissful continuations._   

 _May your love ever endure._   

 _Thank you, for everything._   

 _-Lucy Preston_   

 

 _T_ _hat was cute,_ he thought to himself. She signed the book as Lucy. 


	17. Of Hearts and Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 17: Hands
> 
> This catalogs some of Lucy's feelings and tells a story. It ends happily.

She’s not falling in love with him. She’s not.  _She’s not._

Lucy tells herself that, as she lies awake in bed next to a snoring Flynn. Of course, they are dressed, because she’s not doing  _that_ again…

By “that” Lucy means jumping into bed and having sex on a mission with her coworker. She’s not going to be reckless with this man that makes her heart race, her hands tremble, and coils her nerves tighter and tighter in her stomach until she’s almost sick with it.

This didn’t have to happen. She didn’t have to touch him. She didn’t have to take in the feel of his rough and calloused fingers against hers, his warm palm, giving heat to her much cooler one. The warmth that she now felt under the covers, in the bed that she had practically ordered him into (the floor is too cold, he could get sick- she definitely didn’t want that).

She didn’t have to notice that he had taken his wedding ring off. That the action accompanied some changes in behavior- he had started to sit closer to her, speak even more softly with her, he would let his touch linger on her just a beat longer than it would if they both didn’t want it.

She was fine with their unspoken arrangement before: the smiles, the inside jokes, the sometimes sweet, sometimes passion-charged conversations. But now, she was afraid that wouldn’t be all she wanted. The thought of that terrified her.

It was a cover- being a palm reader. They were looking for a sleeper agent with a particular scar on his hand. Lucy knew nothing about palm-reading, but when Flynn suggested it as a cover, she had to admit it was clever. Luckily for them, he happened to know exactly how to do it. So, he took her hand in his and showed her the various lines- The Heart Line, The Head Line, and The Life Line. When he came to the fate line, he paused.

“What?”

“Well, I don’t put much stock in this sort of thing… It’s just something I learned for fun. But your fate line is very accurate. See how it joins with your lifeline? That means you’re an aspirational individual, self-made. The deep etching of it means you are ruled by fate. With the placement of the simian crease -and not everyone has that, for the record- you are highly intelligent. But we already knew that.”

When Lucy looked up, she saw Flynn staring down at her with an amused smile, “do you want to know about your love life and marriage line?”

Lucy almost choked, “Um. My what?”

“Like I said, I don’t put stock in it. But you do have a marriage line. It’s right here,” he said, pointing to a line right below her pinky, before her heartline, “it’s long, deep, strong. No branches indicate a long and happy marriage.”

Lucy found herself smiling, that was comforting. As much as an intellectual as she was, she did take some comfort in the art of Chiromancy.

“Okay, give it a try,” Flynn said, offering her his left hand, “for men, you’re supposed to read the left hand- that’s the hand they are born with. For women, it’s the right. The opposite hand is what they’ve accumulated through life.”

“Okay,” Lucy said, leaning forward and studying Flynn’s hand. She registered his heart line almost immediately, it was severed, about two thirds in. There was a slight space between the two pieces- “Would those both be Heart Lines?”

Lucy asked it before she could think better of it. Flynn looked down and smiled softly, “I suppose, that’s how I would read it.”

Nodding, she continued to read it, “So I guess that means you had a heart attack, died and was shocked back to life?”

Flynn laughed, “Lucy, it’s fine. Like I said I don’t put any stock in it; however, someone might interpret it as love lost, and love gained, at least nowadays, when they don’t have defibrillators.”

Lucy found herself blushing and Laughing nervously, she needed to move on from that line. That was when she noticed his wedding ring was gone. Without thought, her fingers ghosted over the slight indentation around his finger. After she heard him inhale sharply, she moved on, “Okay, your Life Line is long. That’s good. Your headline, is straight and then curved a little at the end, what does that mean?”

“I’m intellectual with a little bit of a creative side. The cording here means I can be moody and dramatic- which is, frankly, not true.”

The two paused and looked at each other, registering his sarcasm, Lucy began to laugh hysterically, “Oh my god. Don’t make me laugh like that, my make-up is going to run.”

“Worth it,” Flynn said, his soft gaze still lingering on Lucy, who noticed she was still holding onto his hand, “Okay… and my hand type- as you can tell by the long fingers, and square hands- is the air type.”

As he explained this, he ran his fingers over the features of his hand. And then took Lucy’s again, “I think you have fire hands,” he said, as he set her hand flush against his own and compared the two, “See, you have a petite but square palm shape. And short, but strong, fingers and your palm is a little pink.”

“Compared to you, everyone has short fingers,” Lucy said, both her hands and face were warm, and she was sure her cheeks had to be beet-red by now.

“Maybe. Like I said before I don’t take much stock in this stuff but these hands…” he spoke as he found her other hand, and held the both of them in his own, “your hands. They do amazing things, never forget that.”

After Lucy thanked him for the crash course, they went and found the man they were looking for. With the first half of the mission a success the team decided to rest.

And somehow, some way Lucy found herself here, with Flynn.

Eyeing him, Lucy slowly ran her fingers over Flynn’s hand. As he began to stir she worked up the courage to say his name, “hey. Flynn?”

“Yes, Lucy?” he asked, one eye-popping open.

“I was thinking… the wind carries fire along doesn’t it?” Anyone else would be puzzled- but not this man, he understood her.

Flynn closed his eyes again, but he was wearing a warm smile, as his hand moved to stand flush against Lucy’s once again. As she let her fingers fall between his, he opened his eyes, swallowing hard, before allowing his fingers intertwine with hers.

“Well, fire lights the way,” Flynn murmured, as he pulled her hand up to his, and kissed her knuckles softly. Taking a chance, Lucy cautiously slid closer to him, until she was practically in his arms, draping their clasped hands over her as she turned and around, she relished the feel of him scooting closer.

“Get some sleep, _mala_   _vatra,_ ” he whispered softly before he kissed the crown of her head, and settled himself around her. It seemed they fit perfectly.

And this, she found, she didn’t mind.


	18. Of All My Ghosts Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 18: Writing 
> 
> I am posting the first two chapters of my fic "Of All My Ghosts". That fic is basically an emotional whump fic. 
> 
> I picked it because portions of a diary that Lucy wrote are shared. Both Lucy's and Wyatt's emotional trauma is shared. The fic is a Garcy fic. It is a sad fic... and definitely not meant to be read if you yourself are easily saddened.

_December 25th, 2023:_

_“_ _Of_ _all my ghosts, you're the one that haunts me most.”_    

 

* * *

_ The Present: 2044 _

The first entry is so short, the pen is smudged by what Wyatt can only assume are now twenty-year-old tears. Lucy’s diary reads like a melancholic memoir- one that her newly widowed husband had never expected to view.  

* * *

 

_December 30th, 2023:  _

_“Wyatt gave me this journal over a year ago... Last week, he said I should use it since I haven’t been the same since we got back from Brazil. Since I last saw you._  

 _I hate myself because he’s right. I’m not myself. I haven’t been myself in a very, very long time, Garcia. And now I sit here, in my kitchen- alone, day drinking. While the man I pledged my life to thinks I am at work. God, you’d be disappointed in me. You tried to help me, to stitch me up. I still remember how you held my broken pieces- how you kissed them back into place._  

 _I thought I would be angry when I finally saw you. I was so, so mad- for years_ _._ _You abandoned me. You pulled some dramatic “break-up-with-her-before-she-breaks-up-with-me” stunt. You almost destroyed me, Garcia. I am not sure you haven’t succeeded in my destruction- there is still time after all as long as this grief eats away at me._  

 _I do love Wyatt, in a different way than I love you. He has raised your daughters as his own. But this isn’t the life I imagined. In a lot of ways, I have become my mother. I was too afraid to do it on my own- raising Amy and Flynn. And Wyatt, he needed me. And I needed him._  

 _He has to know. The twins look nothing like him. They came two months early- or at least that’s what he and the hospital staff consider the truth. I know the truth. I’m the only one who does, and it eats at me._  

 _I should never have touched you, Garcia Flynn. I can’t bring myself to regret it. I can’t seem to make myself fall out of love with a ghost. Perhaps, it’s because I know it would be as easy as stealing the Life Boat and finding my way to you._  

 _You were wrong about one thing Garcia- I am not an impressive woman. I am not brave. You wasted your life on a shell of a woman. And I wonder what we could have done differently?_  

 _Meanwhile, I share a bed with a man who has taken such great care of me since the day you died._  

My head hurts now, so I will go and nap. Sometimes when I drink this much _,_ _I dream about you. Usually, they are pleasant dreams. I hate myself_ _for_ _hoping for one."_

* * *

_ 2044:  _

Wyatt finds himself weeping afresh. This entry was written twenty years ago- at a time when he still thought they were happy... when he thought Lucy was happy.  

_God, how could he have been so wrong?_


	19. Of All My Ghosts Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 19: Photographs
> 
> Ch. 2 from "Of All My Ghosts"

  _January 12, 2024:_

 _I still remember the day it happened. The day I kissed you... the last journal had said it was The Titanic. This time, however, it wasn’t._  

 _I had started to see through your mask as early as the moon landing mission... I believe you knew that we would save the astronauts. I think you mostly did it to save your brother... Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I see what I want to see... Who knows?_  

 _The day I kissed you, you stopped me. You were so gentle in your rejection it almost didn’t hurt. It was the night I came to your room with the Vodka. I remember talking about myself so much... you were so patient and kind toward me; responding with stories of your own. When you walked over and reached past me to grab a blanket... I_ _completely misinterpreted that. You leaned close to me, and I put my lips on you._  

 _You were so surprised- and when I saw that your hand was not near me- instead it was on a blanket, I wished I could’ve just melted into the floor- I wanted to disappear. You kissed me back for a few minutes- it wasn’t until I got greedy, and tried to pull you into bed that you stopped me. I still remember the dark look in your eyes as you stalled my shoulders and leaned your forehead on mine._  

 _“Lucy, I would never be able to forgive myself... If I took advantage of you.”_  

 _As I said, it almost didn’t hurt._  

 _But then, you were so soft with your movements and, your gaze was full of adoration as you put me to bed (there is really no other way to describe it). You were so respectful. I remember you kissing me on the forehead, and speaking in Croatian. It was the only time I ever heard you say anything in Croatian. When I asked you about it later, you told me it was a prayer._  

 _I hope it was answered, Garcia._  

 _I have to go. Flynn has indoor soccer and Amy has a piano lesson. Wyatt is off working on a long-term case with Homeland Security. So, things have been busy this week. It’s been too busy for me to wallow._  

 _Maybe that’s a good thing._  

* * *

_  2044:  _

Wyatt can remember the exact day that this was written. He had called home and spoken to Lucy briefly. Lucy was all too eager to hand the phone off to the twins- and it made Wyatt worry about her, about their marriage. He had known he was losing Lucy. He could feel it.  

As Wyatt turned the journal over in his hands, several photos and a piece of paper fell out. The photos looked as if they had been taken on a cellphone and then printed out. They were selfies of Lucy and Flynn, it looked like they were taken while they were in bed. Wyatt couldn’t help but smile at Lucy’s younger self, as she was beaming. Next to her Flynn was whispering something in her ear.  

In the next photo, Flynn was kissing her on the cheek, as she smiled. The photo after that, it was both of them smiling into the camera. The one after, Flynn was rolling his eyes. Wyatt had a feeling that Flynn only allowed the one full-faced photo because Lucy had put her foot down and wanted it. The rest were of Flynn and Lucy being silly.  

Then there were photos taken on missions... they must have been taken by Mason or Rufus, while neither Flynn nor Lucy had any idea. In the photos, they were staring at one another intensely- communicating in their unspoken language, as they so often did. One photo, in particular, took Wyatt’s breath away. Lucy was radiant, as she smiled widely at someone, and Flynn sat at the same table, leaning forward, smiling widely as well. Wyatt had never seen Flynn smile like that. Come to think of it, he had rarely ever seen Lucy with such a look on her face.  

It broke him, to know that she had never used that smile on him... Maybe they could have been happy if there was no “what if”. Maybe if Flynn had lived, and Lucy had still chosen Wyatt, she wouldn’t have spent their marriage pining after a ghost.  

“Dad?” Wyatt looked up to see Flynn at the entrance to Lucy’s study, “I came to pick up mom’s books... I figured Amy might want some. What's this?”  

Flynn... Flynn was tall, with the same Eastern European features that Garcia Flynn had. Wyatt was silent as his daughter (he could never consider her anything else) slowly picked up a photo that had fallen on the ground. With a questioning look, she searched the photo and then picked up another. Turning them over and reading the dates.  

“Oh, Dad,” she said, looking up at Wyatt, her eyes were watering. Slowly, she walked over and set the photos on the table before she wrapped her arms around him, “Dad, I love you. Nothing will ever change that.”  

“Did- did you know?”  

“I made mom tell me a while ago,” Flynn said, “I uh, did an ancestry test and had a match with a deceased Iris Flynn. It said she was most likely a sibling... the father’s name had been removed. Mom said she didn’t have any photos.”  

All he could do was offer a nod. 

“I never told Amy. I didn’t want her to know that Mom had lied to her all this time... I think it’ll break her.”  

Again, Wyatt nodded.  

“Dad?” Flynn kneeled in front of him, “Dad this doesn’t change anything...”  

“Flynn,” he choked on the name, even as he smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. She had his green eyes, his olive complexion. His earnest gaze, “it changes everything.”  

Slowly, Flynn closed her eyes, as tears escaped. She gave herself just a moment before straightening up and putting her emotional armor back on.  

“Let me make you dinner, Dad. You’ll feel better after you eat.”


End file.
